Beneath the silver moon’s gentle glow,
Through forests thick and valleys low,
A silent pack begins to roam,
Seeking paths unknown, far from home.

Their eyes, like embers, pierce the night,
Guiding them with ancient might,
In whispers soft, the wind does tell,
Of tales where wolves and shadows dwell.

With every step, the earth does quake,
Nature’s balance, they partake,
Guardians of the wild they stand,
Protectors of this untamed land.

Through snow and storm, their spirits soar,
Bound by bonds that evermore,
Will weave the lore of wolves so free,
Etched in the heart of eternity.